


Yin-Yang

by jane_x80



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships, Partnership, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5385800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellie Bishop wants to learn to be a better field agent and a better partner from her teammates. Tony and Gibbs are the best examples for her. Also, there is football involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yin-Yang

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore the Gibbs/Tony partnership from the eyes of the relative newcomer Ellie Bishop. Both have football in their pasts so I wanted that to come into play. It does not seem as if people are aware of any relationship beyond being long-term partners at work for Gibbs and Tony but Tibbs is definitely implied. I don't even think you have to squint to see it. :)

Ellie Bishop knows that she is relatively new to field work and law enforcement. She is awed and humbled by the fact that Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had chosen her to be a member of his elite MCRT team and she cannot believe that she has survived on it for two years. She knows that this is in so small regard thanks to the teachings of her teammates, Special Agent Timothy McGee and Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Gibbs rarely has the patience to teach, leaving it mostly up to his Junior Field Agent and Senior Field Agent to break in the new Probie.

McGee is talented with all things technology, but he is also superbly competent in the field. Ellie knows that Tony has much of the credit for McGee’s development into the field agent that he is today, she has heard the stories from Ducky, Abby and Palmer about how McGee used to be, and how Tony has managed to whip him into shape. And now, Ellie admires McGee and is flourishing under his tutelage.

She also feels incredibly lucky that Tony has also taken her under his wing and is teaching her to be a field agent in that gently caustic, heavy on the teasing, but always educational manner that he has. Tony is a talented teacher, knowing when to push and when to hold back, when to point things out and when to allow her to come to her own conclusions. He is a master at reading people and he seems to read her like a book, knowing exactly how to bring the best out of her, causing her to surprise even herself, no mean feat as she has always been an over-achiever with a need to constantly push her own limits. He can build her confidence with a quiet word, and tear her down a peg with just a raised eyebrow. She has improved tremendously in the past two years and she knows this.

But what she most feels lacking in and desperately wants to learn, and fast, is how to work seamlessly with her partners. Ellie knows that she is getting better at this, but she wishes she could read her partners as well as they can read each other. When she is partnered with Tony or McGee, they both employ hand signals, whispered words and overt facial gestures to signal what they wish her to do or which way she is to go. She shudders in embarrassment every time she recalls the time when she tried to kick a door in and Tony had to remind her that she had the hotel room card key and should perhaps use it.

When Tony and McGee, partnered up together, are spurred into action – say clearing a building – they do not even seem to look at each other, working soundlessly and efficiently, dividing up the work with barely discernible flicks of the fingers or the eyes. Tony and McGee working in tandem is the smooth purring of a well-tuned engine. But to watch Tony and Gibbs work together is pure poetry in motion.

The two most-senior members of her team seem to be able to read each other’s minds most of the time, whether in the field, in the bullpen, or even out at dinner. When they work together to kick down a door and flow into a room, Ellie thinks that there is nothing more beautiful or more choreographed. They anticipate each other completely, and their movements are smooth, silent, and filled with a menacing and deadly grace. She cannot see how they communicate with each other, and yet their movements prove that there is communication and coordination, just beyond her ability to make out. Ellie wishes that she could record their moves and just watch it over and over so as to analyze and learn from their actions. These two should be studied at FLETC so probies all over the country can know what it is they are expected to become. Ellie wonders if perhaps she should make this suggestion to Director Vance, and knows that if she did Tony would deliver her a headslap worthy of Gibbs.

In a gunfight, Tony and Gibbs are a deadly pairing, smoothly covering each other’s sixes as they take care of business. She also knows that neither of them would hesitate to take a bullet for the other, and have probably done so on more than one occasion.

In the bullpen, Tony deflects attention to himself when Gibbs is on the warpath, absorbing the abuse and anger and letting it flow over him harmlessly, shielding his teammates from the worst of it. He chatters incessantly until Gibbs’ mood lifts slightly and Ellie and McGee can breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Tony is the verbose yin to Gibbs’ mute yang.

And although there is an inordinate amount of silent conversations between Tony and McGee, a testament to their partnership, friendship and brotherhood for all these years, the tacit conversations between Gibbs and Tony takes wordless conversations to a whole new level.

At a crime scene, Gibbs only needs to glare meaningfully at Tony before Tony mutters “On it, Boss” and interprets the look into actions and commands for himself, McGee and Ellie. Even at team dinners, when Tony is in full on banter mode with McGee and Ellie, there is always an undercurrent of silent conversations when Gibbs and Tony exchange looks, conversations which may be work- or case-related, or may be of a deeply personal nature, but Ellie knows that plenty is being ‘said’ between the two while the general conversation has not faltered.

Ellie has spoken to McGee about this and all McGee can say is that she’ll sort of get the hang of it, and that he hasn’t fully grasped what all goes through his Team Lead and Senior Field Agent’s heads and although he has thrown himself at trying to decipher their every look, even after all these years he gets maybe 35-40% of what they are thinking to each other.

Ellie makes the mistake of wondering out loud, “How do you know they understand each other? Maybe they only think they do but are having completely separate and unrelated conversations to each other this whole time?”

McGee laughs and gives her a gentle head slap. “Do you actually believe that, Probie?”

Ellie’s cheeks flush with color. That is completely insane. Of course Tony and Gibbs know what they are saying to each other, whether spoken or unspoken.

McGee says softly, in a tone that is tinged with slight envy “Gibbs and Tony have that something – that special connection. I used to really hate it and try to undermine Tony,” he admits. “Not like funny ha-ha jokes, but I said very hurtful and personal things on purpose to Tony because I wanted to break him down and for Gibbs to notice me and have that connection with me instead.”

Ellie’s eyes are wide. “What did Tony do?” she asks in a hushed voice.

McGee sighs, lowering his eyes in shame. “Nothing,” he says. “Tony never retaliated, despite all the hurtful things that he could have said to me to break me into little pieces, and I know he would have been able to completely destroy me, he never ever stooped to my level. He just kept on being himself, and never showed any reaction to my hateful words. And while I still envy his relationship with Gibbs, I realize that now Tony and I also have a relationship that is something like that and I’m not stupid enough to throw that away. Not anymore. We’ve been through a lot together, and Tony, well, Tony’s been through a whole lot more.”

Ellie knows that there are things that the team never talks about – their ex-teammate Ziva for instance, or Kate who was killed so long ago. She knows that in large part, they do not talk about these things because these are the things that have hurt them the most. And although nobody will give Ellie any details, she knows that Ziva is someone who has inflicted a great deal of pain on the team, and especially on Tony. Even though Ellie is a member of the team and has been for two years, nobody will talk to her about what went on between Ziva and Tony, and that the team will fiercely protect Tony from this deep hurt. She knows that they talk about Ziva and remember her fondly (she had been a beloved member of the team), but that they did this behind Ellie’s back and behind Tony’s back. Ellie cannot even recall when anybody even mentioned Ziva’s name when Tony is present. Not even Gibbs will bring her up to Tony in front of anyone else.

Ellie does not know what to say to McGee, and the conversation is interrupted when Tony breezes in, one arm on his shoulder, swinging his suit jacket jauntily on a finger, a tray of coffee cups in his other hand, and his expensive designer sunglasses perched on his nose. Ellie cannot help but draw in a breath – Tony exudes sex and masculinity even when he isn’t trying. He really wasn’t trying to draw attention to himself, he was just bringing coffee for his team. But it doesn’t help that he is ridiculously handsome, and that he is an incredibly complex person hiding behind lovable masks. She thinks that McGee must have had a hard time living up to Tony who is larger than life, and feels compassion for her teammate for his confession about trying to undermine Tony.

Tony looks down his sunglasses at his probies and flashes them his big smile. “What’s going on that’s so serious, McGoo and Probish?” he teases as he throws his jacket on his desk and saunters over handing them each a cup and placing one on Gibbs’ desk even though he is not there.

“Nothing much yet, Tony,” McGee tells him.

“Thanks for the coffee Tony,” Ellie chimes in.

“No worries,” Tony smiles and shows his teammates the name and number that has been scrawled below his name on his coffee cup. He shakes his head, disbelievingly. “Layla,” he grimaces, “is the cute barista who told me I had ‘dreamy eyes’” he makes air quotes.

“Why are you so upset about it?” McGee asks. “You like women, and dates, and…stuff.”

Tony pouts (and Ellie has to remind herself to breathe, because Layla is not only right about Tony’s eyes but if she had seen this pout, she would have completely lost her train of thought). “She’s a kid, McCradleSnatcher. She’s like 23?”

“Never stopped you before,” McGee smirks.

“I’d like to think that I’ve grown up at least a little bit,” Tony says airily.

McGee snorts disdainfully. “She just screwed up your order, didn’t she?”

Tony chuckles softly. “She sure did, Probie. That’s the truth,” he sighs exaggeratedly. “The Boss not done with MTAC yet?” his tone abruptly changes to serious with a hint of worry.

McGee shrugs and sighs, and Tony sips his coffee and grimaces again. “Hazelnut and caramel are two very different things, Layla,” he mutters as he moves back to his desk, his brow creasing slightly as he throws a quick glance towards MTAC. He remains standing, pulling on his jacket and keeping his badge and gun on instead of throwing the items in the drawer. Ellie wonders why Tony is worried, it’s not unusual for Gibbs to be stuck in MTAC like this. She frowns her question silently to McGee who makes a face. McGee doesn’t know how to tell Ellie that if Tony thinks that something is up with Gibbs, then chances are, something was probably up with Gibbs.

A moment later, Gibbs is striding down the stairs hollering at his team to gear up and that it was going to be a bad one. Tony chucks his almost full coffee cup into the trash, throws the keys to McGee, ordering him to gas the truck, and orders Ellie to bring Gibbs’ coffee with her. Since he is ready to go, Tony grabs his backpack and immediately hurries after Gibbs.

As McGee and Ellie are getting their things, he gives her a look. “I told you they have a connection,” he says quietly, answering her earlier silent question.

Ellie nods. Tony and Gibbs are partners and she looks forward to working closely with them so she can continue to analyze their ESP-like connection so she can try to achieve it herself. She wonders if perhaps one day she and McGee might have at least a pale shadow of the bond between Gibbs and Tony. She wonders, is it odd that she does not have the kind of connection that Gibbs and Tony have with each other, even with her husband and life-partner Jake?

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ellie knows that Tony had been a big-time college athlete, playing on both the varsity football and basketball team when he was at Ohio State University. She knows that he had been good enough to go pro until he suffered a career ending knee injury. She also knows that he still plays basketball and touch football with his friends on some weekends, and that he is an active player in the NCIS men’s basketball team and that their team has consistently beaten the FBI, DEA and the Metro PD basketball teams in their annual friendly tournaments. She has been to these basketball games and can hardly believe that the forty-something DiNozzo can still run circles around guys ten or even fifteen years younger than him, busting out his practically professional moves and working hard with his team (Tony is always a team player) to cream their opponents.

However, she has never seen him play football until Gibbs volunteers himself and Tony to be on the NCIS team for the LEO’s annual football tournament.

McGee and Ellie find out when they walk into the bullpen after lunch and Tony and Gibbs are arguing – out loud, using words, which is not how they usually argue in front of witnesses.

“Excuse me, I think I misheard you,” Tony’s tone is sharp. “What did you just say?”

“I signed us up to play football at this weekend’s tournament,” Gibbs repeats patiently.

“You did what??” Tony is almost squeaking with anger.

“You’ve always wanted to play,” Gibbs tells him.

“Not the friggin’ point though, is it?” Tony counters. “You got shot not so long ago, Boss!”

“But I’m fine now.”

Tony growls his anger and notices that McGee and Bishop are back. “Can we finish this in your office please?” he hisses.

“Nope,” Gibbs’ eyes are twinkling. “I’m fine, my leg is fine and I want to play and you want to play so let’s play.”

Tony and Gibbs revert to the silent battle of wills, Tony’s eyes are spitting fire and Gibbs’ are icy, calm, and slightly amused.

Ellie decides to fill in the blanks of the ‘partner-silent-talk’ in her own words. _What the fuck do you think you’re doing?_ Seems to be what Tony’s eyes are saying.

 _It’s just an afternoon of football, DiNozzo,_ Gibbs replies.

Tony’s eyes begin pleading. _Be reasonable, Boss. You gotta take care of your leg._

_My leg is fine, stop worrying about it._

Tony frowns and pouts. _I’m gonna tell Ducky on you._

Gibbs’ mouth quirks into an almost-grin. _He already gave me the all clear, dumbass._

Finally after long moments of silent glaring, Tony sighs, throws up his hands and begins muttering in Italian, with a healthy smattering of f-bombs thrown in.

Gibbs cannot resist the last word. “It’ll be fun, Tony,” Gibbs says in a gentle voice, and he almost never uses Tony’s first name when they are at work, evidence that he is trying to smooth his SFA’s ruffled feathers. Tony growls an uncharacteristically terse response. Ellie stifles a giggle as it occurs to her that this is a role reversal where Gibbs has used words to convince Tony to do something and all Tony can do is growl in response. Usually Tony is the one full of words and Gibbs the one with the growled responses.

Ellie runs down to Abby’s lab to inform her of these new developments and Abby shrieks with excitement. Her two favorite people are going to do something new together and she will get to witness it.

“Did you know that Gibbs was the star quarterback of his high school team?” Abby tells her while she drains her cup of Caf-Pow. “And that Tony was a starting tight end at OSU?”

Ellie did not realize that Gibbs had also played football.

“This is gonna be great!” Abby says. “Make sure Jake comes. Also we have to bring a video camera. This is gonna be the best thing ever!”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday is a beautiful fall day. The sun is shining and the leaves are changing color. Saturday afternoon brings Ducky, Palmer, Breena, baby Victoria, Abby, McGee, Delilah, Ellie and Jake to the football field where the FBI is playing NCIS. Fornell has even turned up with his daughter, mostly to see how Gibbs and DiNozzo work out on the field. Director Vance has brought his son and daughter to the game.

Before the game begins, Ellie sees that Tony is having a serious conversation with a few of the NCIS players – a few of them are taller than he is and all of them are heavier and more muscular than he is. His eyes are green fireballs of anger and he aggressively pokes a few of them in the chest as he speaks, his expression is menacing, and amazingly, the big guys are nodding meekly in agreement with him, submitting to his will.

“What’s going on with that?” Ellie asks Abby.

Abby laughs. She has been lip-reading Tony. “He’s warning them to protect their quarterback and threatening all kinds of dire things if they fail in their mission,” she tells everyone. “Gibbs is the offensive QB today.” Ducky, Palmer and McGee nod sagely at this.

“I can’t believe those big guys are just taking that attitude from Tony,” Jake says quietly. “They could pound him, no problem.”

“Oh, they’re scared of Tony,” Abby assures him.

“Of Tony? He seems like he wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Jake says. “He’s so civilized.”

Abby and McGee laugh hysterically. “OMG, Jake, you totally fell for his act then,” Abby chuckles.

“Don’t let him know this, dude,” McGee claps Jake on his back sympathetically. “It’ll give him a huge ego boost and we have to work with him next week.”

“Tony?” Jake is surprised. “Your Tony DiNozzo?”

McGee looks proud as he says, “Tony is bad ass, dude. Don’t let him fool you with his puppy dog eyes and DiNozzo charm. Don’t _ever_ tell him I said that.”

“I thought Gibbs was your resident bad ass,” Jake says.

“Oh he is, dear boy, he is. Anthony is a bad ass of a different nature,” Ducky chimes in, only hesitating slightly when he says ‘bad ass’. “Dear Anthony is quietly scary, and those who forget this do so at their own peril.”

Ellie and Jake are a little scared by Ducky’s statement. Jake swallows audibly. Not for the first time, he wonders why his wife left her quiet analyst job at the NSA to join this wild team of misfits. He had thought that Tony was the most normal if perhaps immature and not-serious person on the team, but if he was a quietly scary bad ass, then maybe he didn’t know Tony as well as he thought he did.

Abby waves to Fornell and who has decided to stay on the FBI side of the supporters. Vance and his children walk up to Gibbs’ and Tony’s supporters, followed by Emily, Fornell’s teenaged daughter.

“Hey Director,” Abby greets him and she hugs all three kids in greeting.

“This is gonna be something else,” Palmer mutters excitedly as the teams get ready to play. There is a slight mad scramble as Palmer almost drops the video camera in his hands in his excitement to have been elected the videographer.

NCIS wins the coin toss and chooses to go on the offensive. Kick off is returned to the thirty yard line.

The men grab their helmets and get on the field. Gibbs is quarterbacking. He looks icy calm, relaxed and ready. Tony is visibly vibrating with eager anticipation. He flashes a feral grin at the NCIS sideline and the group bursts into loud cheers and war whoops. He pulls on his helmet and strides on to the field. Ellie realizes that every woman (and probably quite a few men) is checking out Tony’s rear end as he stalks into the huddle. Ellie reminds herself not to sigh in appreciation as Jake will notice and get jealous. He doesn’t understand the reaction that most women have to Tony. This afternoon, his football gear only highlights his lean and muscled body, and in his walk there is a promise that he will loose the wild animal that is hiding under his skin. It is almost as if Tony is a gladiator of old, preparing to do battle. There is not even a hint of the suave, impeccably dressed, metrosexual, ladies’ man that Tony usually presents to the world.

The teams take their places. Play begins.

The big uglies stand strong and protect Gibbs, and Tony has skillfully run his route (like a pro, Palmer thinks excitedly, amazed to watch his friends play) and has somehow evaded the defenders and is wide open. Gibbs draws back his arm and lets loose a long easy throw, and as if by magic the ball heads unerringly towards his tight end / Senior Field Agent. Tony leaps, catches the ball, tucks it under his arm and begins running. He runs twenty yards before he is tackled and brought down, but he keeps possession of the ball, using the momentum of his fall to gracefully roll back up onto his feet.

Abby gasps, Tony had been hit hard. But he shows no sign that he has been affected.

Ellie sees that the first thing Tony does is look at Gibbs. She is sure he is making sure Gibbs hasn’t been harmed (even though he was the one who had taken a hit), before he casually tosses the ball to the referee. There is a slight swagger in his stride when he rejoins his team.

And so it goes on. Although Gibbs doesn’t always throw passes, and if he does it is not exclusively only to Tony, it is obvious that there is a certain magic when Gibbs does throw passes to Tony. Their connection is as strong on the football field as it is anywhere else and they still seem to be able to anticipate what each other is doing and does whatever needs doing to support it. On the football field as Tony runs and leaps and catches what Gibbs throws to him, the coordination and choreography there is as smooth, graceful and silent as when they are in the field at work. Tony is still the yin to Gibbs’ yang.

Even Fornell has to come over to the group, grinning like a maniac even though, technically, his team is losing. “How did you get Gibbs to play?” he says to Vance, who is himself, sporting a maniacal grin.

Vance shrugs. He can’t stop grinning. NCIS football has never looked better. “I didn’t. Gibbs signed himself up.”

“And of course that sumbitch DiNutzo followed?” Fornell shakes his head in despair.

McGee chimes in “Gibbs signed both himself and Tony up for this. Tony was kind of upset about it.”

“ _DiNozzo_ was upset?” Vance was surprised. “I thought he would be in all his glory?”

McGee jerks his head at Ducky. “Why do you think he’s here,” he says softly. “Safety first.”

Vance understands what McGee is telling him. He wonders why, yet again, he has underestimated Anthony DiNozzo’s devotion not only to his job, his team and especially to his boss.

There is one ugly moment when Gibbs is sacked. He picks himself up and finds his outraged SFA staring down the big uglies that he had spoken with earlier. Gibbs places a gentle hand on Tony’s bristling shoulder. Tony looks his boss over, nods his satisfaction, and although he grimly looks back at the big guys, he walks away from them. He tosses a dangerous look at the FBI agent who sacked his boss and the man literally quakes in his boots. It is as if every ounce of civility has been stripped from Tony, leaving behind a snarling, naked, primal being and the unfortunate sacker decides that it will definitely be the last time he attempts to do anything to the NCIS quarterback.

Tony throws a look back at the sidelines. Ellie sees guilt mixed in with that anger. He does not like it when he can’t watch Gibbs’ six himself and he takes it very personally when anything happens on his watch.

The rest of the game goes smoothly. NCIS wins handily and Ellie watches how Gibbs yanks Tony by his facemask, pulls it to his own face so they stand face to face, helmets touching, and she knows he must be saying something to him. Gibbs is also rubbing the back of Tony’s neck and his shoulders and suddenly Ellie can see the tension drain out of Tony and his body language stops being aggressive and feral. She sees him nod several times in response to whatever Gibbs is saying, and then Gibbs pats his helmet a few times and lets him go with a pat on the ass.

She realizes that although Tony is usually the one defusing Gibbs, Gibbs is probably the only person who can defuse Tony when he is as keyed up as he seems to be now. Perhaps that is why Gibbs continues with the head slaps all these years later. Tony needs them to ground him.

When the teams are doing the traditional post-game handshakes, a helmetless Tony is all smiles and charm again as he shakes hands, trades manly one-armed hugs, and slaps the backs of the defeated FBI team. The guy who sacked Gibbs is understandably wary when it is his turn to shake Tony’s hand. A hint of the animal returns to Tony’s grin as he claps the man on his shoulders, but that is all he does, returning immediately to his mask of the affable jock.

Finally the crowd thins out. Only Gibbs’ people are left and they ply Tony and Gibbs with compliments and electrolytes. All Tony wants to do is to take a hot shower and then take a nap. His bad knee is aching, his back hurts and the rest of his body is battered and bruised from all the hits and repeated impact of his body against other bodies, as well as to the ground. He knows he will soon come off his adrenalin high and crash, but Abby is ridiculously excited and wants everyone to go out for a meal. Gibbs insists that he and Tony get a shower first and meet the rest somewhere afterwards.

The group retires to a restaurant and awaits the arrival of their football heroes. When Gibbs and Tony walk into the restaurant together, they are yet again cheered and feted. Abby hugs them both tightly and Tony gamely hides his wince of pain as Abby presses hard against several sore spots. Drinks are pressed into their hands as they are ushered to their seats. Ellie sees that Tony is dressed in comfortable old jeans and a faded OSU hoodie. He has not bothered to do anything with his hair other than perhaps towel it dry, which gives him a sexy tousled bed-head look. She doesn’t know how he does it but somehow just in the way he looks, he is giving the impression that he has just rolled out of some sexy woman’s bed to join them which she knows cannot possibly be true since he and Gibbs just came from the showers together.

Conversations around the table revolve around the football game. Vance is trying to get Gibbs to commit to play in next year’s game.

“I don’t think Tony’s heart will be able to take that strain, Leon,” Gibbs smirks looking at Tony.

Tony pauses mid-sentence (he was trying to explain the details of some of the technicalities of football to Ducky) when he hears Gibbs say his name. “What?” he asks, a slight frown deepening the crease between his expressive green eyes.

“I think you two should sign up to play again next year,” Vance tells him.

Ellie sees that a vein begins to throb in Tony’s temple. “Only if we upgrade the big uglies,” he retorts. “Or train them better. Or better yet, let me go talk to the Feebies and they will be sure to stay the hell away from my quarterback. Then we can play.” The ferocity in his quiet tone shocks the table into silence.

Fornell puts his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “He only got sacked once,” he says reasonably.

Immediately, the feral animal Tony is back and Tony sneers, “Your guy is lucky to be alive right now.”

“Believe me, he knows,” Fornell tells him. “If you and Gibbs play next year, I can’t even guarantee too many guys will want to play against you guys. I think you got your point across today DiNutzo.”

Tony gives Fornell a long look, flashes a quick look at Gibbs, and stands down again after seeing some unspoken message in his eyes. “Whatever. Does anybody have any aspirin?” he whines. Feral animal Tony has been replaced by whiny bitch Tony, who is much less intimidating.

Abby hands the bottle over and Tony spends the rest of the meal chewing aspirin, and picking at his food, which worries his friends. A Tony that doesn’t eat is not a good thing. He is still participating in the banter though, so they know he is still somewhat OK. A quiet Tony that doesn’t eat is a very very bad thing.

Ellie notices that at the end of the meal, Gibbs arranges to doggy bag Tony’s food. Tony looks exhausted and doesn’t even bother to hide that he is in pain. Gibbs gives Tony a look, and they stand up together. Gibbs tells the team that they have to leave, and Tony flashes his trademark smile at everyone (Ellie thinks that this time even Jake is affected by that smile), says goodbye and prettily thanks everyone for coming to watch the game (Tony has always been very polite). Gibbs carries the bag with Tony’s leftovers and they walk shoulder to shoulder out of the restaurant, Gibbs’ hand on the small of Tony’s back. Ellie can see that Tony is limping slightly now.

At the table, both Kayla and Emily sigh audibly. Vance and Fornell glare at their daughters, making them blush.

Abby laughs. “Don’t worry girls,” she reassures them. “It’s not just you. He’s still got it. When Tony first started working with Gibbs, I had to keep reminding myself to breathe every time he looked at me.”

The girls look surprised at Abby’s confession.

“Were you guys ever..?” Emily dares to ask.

“Oh no, no, no. Tony is a dear, dear friend. He just can’t help being eye candy to boot,” Abby winks at Ellie. “Right?”

Ellie chokes and stutters. Jake is right beside her. “Abby!” she says, outraged.

“You think he’s hot now? Back then, whoo-eeee,” Abby flaps her hands. “But his first love will always be work, girls. So you can look, but you can’t keep him, the job and the Bossman always come first. That’s how Tony likes it.”

“You have any pictures of him back then?” Jared, Vance’s son asks unexpectedly. “I mean, back when he was playing at OSU?”

“How do you know he played at OSU?” Vance asks his son.

“We talked about it the times he’s been on our protection detail,” Jared says. “He showed me a few moves, helped straighten out my throw. That sort of thing.”

“Really?” Leon is surprised. Tony is not usually good with children.

“I can ask him about those pictures,” Abby tells Jared. “I don’t have any from way back then but this is one Kate took of him in the field.” Her voice is sad, speaking about Kate, and she passes her phone around. It is a picture of a younger Tony standing shoulder to shoulder with Gibbs, both wearing NCIS caps and jackets. Gibbs is looking down at something Tony is holding and Tony is staring straight at the camera, his eyes are gleaming seriously and his mouth a determined line. It is rare to see a serious picture of Tony – he is usually hamming it up for the camera.

“Wow,” Kayla and Emily are captivated.

Ellie stifles a gasp. Tony is undeniably smoking hot in the picture, but Ellie thinks that he has somehow improved with age.

Vance clears his throat. “I think perhaps we should change the subject.”

Abby laughs. “Tony would be so embarrassed by this,” she says. “But Kate did manage to take some really good pictures of him when he wasn’t looking. Ziva did too.” She chuckles sadly then sighs.

The party breaks up soon after as Ducky announces that he had better head off to Gibbs’ house to examine Tony and maybe dose him with painkillers.

“Can I come?” McGee asks wickedly. “I love Tony on painkillers.”

Ducky laughs and tells him he would do that at his own risk.

“How do you know Tony is at Gibbs’ house?” Jake asks Ducky.

“Gibbs always takes care of Tony when he’s hurt,” Abby tells him.

“Tony’s hurt?”

McGee laughs. “Dude, did you see how much punishment he took today? Tony’s definitely hurting.”

“Do you all go to Gibbs when you’re hurt?” Jake is curious.

“No, really, mostly Tony. It started when they were a two-man team. Before Kate. Before me,” McGee says. His eyes are sad. Kate again. They will never fully recover from losing Kate.

“Tony practically lived at Gibbs’ when he wasn’t busy hunting down Daniel Budd,” Abby says. “Tony was taking care of Gibbs and taking him to PT and whatnot. They look out for each other.”

“They’re partners,” Ellie says easily. "It's what they do."


End file.
